Because I Am Me
by Mystic Angel 007
Summary: Murdock's POV - His life kinda ...hard to explain. Hope you like.


**Title:** Because I Am Me

**Rating**: T

**Beta:** Shadowwalker213

**Characters**: Murdock Centric

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, just borrowing.

Everyone has good days and bad days; it's a part of the cycle of life. Most people's bad days are simple things that are an inconvenience but in the grand scheme of things, and on later reflection, really aren't that bad. Maybe you missed the train you wanted and have to get another one and get delayed; the family pet the kids insisted on having tossed it's cookies on the light-coloured carpet in the hall. Like I said, average problems that really aren't that major.

Then there's bad days with a shit load of problems that are actually serious; they're out there and are a common occurrence for me. Let me tell you what a bad day is really like, then see if your life is half as screwed up as mine has the tendency to be.

Have you ever had to spend two days in a white straitjacket? Arms tied up, cramping and unable to move them? Been subjected to Electro Convulsive (so-called) Therapy lately? Had your brain deep-fried? Been tied to your bed, pumped full of God only knows what medications, fed though a god damned straw?

I guess by now you must be thinking that I am ether a lunatic or obsessed with drama. Truth be told, I am slightly mad but if you were subjected to those things and worse - usually against your will - wouldn't you be? Wouldn't anybody?

I am an ace pilot, one of the best in Vietnam, but that damn war broke me so the government in its infinite wisdom certified me as insane and sent me to a living hell. After a few days in a rat hole with tortures – they could not be doctors and do the things they did to people – I began to see things and hear things. I tried to live in a fantasy world because reality was too abhorrent to handle. Hearing patients' screams fill the air on a regular basis, I wished I had died with so many of my comrades in battle.

If I hadn't been rescued by Hannibal, B.A., and Face, I would most likely have taken my own life by now, and the world would have lost something brilliant and rare.

As you sit at your desk in your office, tell me how your life can compare to mine. Maybe you have felt tragedy but you know nothing of suffering as I do and I hope you never do. I am not a bad man. I am a kind man that has quirks from my time of isolation and inhuman treatments; I laugh, smile, and joke like you do. Yes, sometimes I can lose track of reality and I go off on tangents about subjects dear to me, such as flying and my dog Billy, but I am by no means a dangerous man. Except perhaps when I am left with my own thoughts for too long. I need to be interacted with or I slip into the past and everything bubbles to the surface.

I crave simple love and affection, as does anyone, but I am cautious. One time too many I was fooled and hurt by so called health care workers, thinking they would actually help me, when to them I was nothing but another crazy, another nobody. Just another mistake of nature or nurture, disposable and worthless.

It is still rare if I have a day when suicidal thoughts don't run through this maze of a mind. I am so used to them that I can ignore them but I do worry that one day that won't work and then where will I be - or rather, what will I do? If I look carefully enough at my right wrist there are the faintest of scars. I see because I remember when I put them there with a razor blade. The blood and the sting. Only one other besides the people _I will die before I return to_ knows about them, my best friend in the world, Templeton Peck. He knows because it is a habit that we both broke, self-mutilation out of desperation and despair for varied reasons.

Do you see the picture of me in your head? Do I look like a monster with glowing eyes, fangs and claws? Don't forget the horns too. I jest.

I could be any one you pass on your way to work or to the shops on any given day. I am just a man, but I could be your father, brother, uncle, second cousin Johnny, anyone.

I guess my point would be don't judge me before you get to know me. What you see is not always what you get and I know for a fact that I am too good at only letting people see what I want them to. That has been one of my biggest downfalls but thanks to my new friendship with a certain bunch of guys, I am starting to be more myself and less the person it was deemed by _the powers that be_ that I should be. They want me to be; Normal, sane, rational, happy, logical. In my experience all overrated anyway.

I am what I am and if I stand firmly behind that thought. I have discovered that I can defeat the world in my secret battle and hold my head high despite the glances people throw when I let my guard down and my true nature shines through. Whether that be through a childish prank, knock-knock joke, goofy smiles, random titbits of information, or talking to the blue meanies, as an individual I have the right to who I am without fear of repercussions.

If I want to ride a unicycle down Broadway wearing a pink feather boa and a shirt that reads 'I.D.G.A.R.A' with silk cartoon character boxers I should be able to do so. If I get very far is another story I suppose.

-Fini-

**AN:** IDGARA : I don't give a ...


End file.
